By all standards, Maxine was brooding — except they would never admit that. The party had gone on long enough in their books, and they weren’t quite sure how much longer they would be able to sit through the whole thing pretending that they were enjoying themselves. In retrospect, they almost regret suggesting to leave New York in the first place. It would be dishonest to pin all the blame on Anya; she had only given a small piece to the puzzle. They had, on the other hand, set the whole thing into motion with their meddling ideas. And they’d greed to come as Anya’s appointed guardian, though, admittedly, ‘agreed’ would be far too generous a word for how the conversation really went.
The bar was meant to be somewhere they could drown out the rest of the crowd and sit in peace in a quiet corner, so they’d paid little mind when a figure had settled next to them. They didn’t think he intended to stay by the bar anyway, at least not from the size of his order. Fate, unfortunately, would prove them wrong, again.
“Might need to get better friends,” Maxine muttered wryly, looking down at their almost-empty glass. Shrugging, they pushed it forward towards the other edge of the bar table, before turning back to the other. They eyed the array of cocktails in his possession. With a hum, they gestured towards them with a tilt of her head. “Pass one over.”
“You could say that,” Maxine added, fully aware their accent would at least give away that they, like the couple, were from New York. They paused to look at their new companion a little more closely. “And you? Do you know the Vincellis well?”
“you might be right,” tony nods as he slides one of the drinks towards them, the clear liquid sloshing against the sides of the glass but never spilling. “but then i’d have to look for new bandmates. don’t think there’s anyone else good enough around to replace them,” he finishes with a smile and wraps his fingers around a glass of his own, the old fashioned meant for the double bassist. he could never do that, tony thinks—replace them. through thick and thin, they’d always had his back; if he were to stop playing with them, he’d have to stop playing altogether.
they sound like they’re not from around here, which only means one thing tonight—they’re from the new york party. it’s just tony’s luck, to start up a conversation with someone who’s about to become part of the vincelli inner circle. for all his efforts to have as little contact with that part of his city as possible, it seems like it’s harder to escape than he anticipated.
tony doesn’t press for an explanation—not because he thinks he’s off with his assumption but because they don’t strike him as someone who’d want to spill their story to a stranger with a drink. would he? tony wonders and gets to find out when the question comes. “not really,” he replies in between sips. “i mean, i play at knock five times so i work for them. and—” tony pauses for a second, wondering if his personal connection to the family is something he wants to reveal, “and i know one of the brothers,” he eventually says, settling on an answer that’s as ambiguous as it gets. “i’m on the clock here tonight. well, i was. our set’s done now and so we drink,” tony says as he takes another look around the room to search for his friends. they’re still nowhere to be found. oh, they’re gonna get it, abandoning him like this. he turns to the other again, another question on his lips. “enjoying new orleans?”
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